A growl rumbles deep in my throat.
Hairs on end, skin on the back of my neck, tight.
My reply to the howls of lamentation in the dark.
Why do wolves and beasts howl?
A call? A warning? Do they feel distance?
I ache from this distance between us so foul.
My growl is my call to you, my love.
Did you hear it? Did you feel me?
Perched high in your tower of ivory.
Fair head bent, so weak, on bended knee.
Lift your head, offer your porcelain throat.
I’m near, my love. The journey’s at its end.
Not a flicker of light to guide my step.
Eyes cloaked by darkness, I hunt you by your scent.
Nearing. Downwind of my willing prey, I pounce.
No gentle kisses on moonless nights.
Tooth and claw will shred fine silk.
And sate you with a million sharp bites.
As I feed and drink from your burning flesh.
No full moon in the sky this night.
I need not Polaris to find my way, no matter how far.
Your scent, carried to me, is my guiding light.
Blow a kiss into the wind, and I will find you.
